


Tales Of Seven Drunk Dudes In A Tour Bus

by frenchpirate (Whiskey_n_speed)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: M/M, Warped Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskey_n_speed/pseuds/frenchpirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It involves shoe polish, a pineapple and probably more nakedness than what was entirely necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales Of Seven Drunk Dudes In A Tour Bus

”You’re no fun, Mikeyway” Frank hollered as a small group of people stumbled into the bus. 

“Shut up.” Mikey mumbled effortless from the couch in the lounge where he’d been residing for the last hour or so. 

“We’re bringing the party to you, since _apparently_ you’re not going to bring yourself to the party.” He explained further, throwing himself down on Mikeys legs, making him cringe. 

“There were too many people.” Mikey said as Pete, Patrick, Bob, Jepha and Bert followed Frank closely and settled down on whatever spare amount of chairs and amps they could find around the bus. 

“So I brought friends.” Frank pointed to the others as he handed Mikey a bottle of gin that only had the last few sips left, which Mikey quickly downed. All of them were already halfway hammered, and he might as well get the rest of the way to their level; it’d be funnier for everyone involved anyways. He had already been drinking down at the tents where they could still hear shouting and music from as the party continued, but he had sobered up while he’d been lying here. 

“What now?” Jepha shrugged, pulling another beer out from the inside of his hoodie, looking slightly bored. 

“Naked twister.” Bert said with as much conviction as he could muster in his state, and Patrick looked frightened at him as Bob rolled his eyes. 

“As you’re both wearing clothes for once, how about we keep it that way.” Bob suggested with a sharp half-grin, and Bert glared. 

“Who pissed on your parade?” 

“I don’t think that’s how you say it.” Frank grinned, and while his attention was elsewhere, Mikey tried shoving him off his legs – without much success, and Frank stayed where he was. 

“Truth or dare.” Pete said, and if anyone in the room had listened closely enough they would probably have heard a small ‘swoosh’ as everyone turned their heads towards Pete, who had been quiet until then, sitting next to Patrick on the two chairs that usually stood at the table. 

“That’s so fifth grade,” Frank laughed, and Pete only just reached to look dissatisfied before Frank continued. “I’m in.” 

The rest of the room agreed half-heartedly with grunts and nods, only just drunk enough to do so, as only Frank and Pete seemed to be really genuinely excited about the suggestion. Mikey lazily threw his arm across his face and sighed into his sleeve. 

“First one to chicken out loses, last one left wins. You go first.” Pete said daringly to Frank, who just raised an eyebrow in return. 

“Truth.” 

“When was your last fuck?” 

“That’s so vanilla.” Frank smiled. “Last Tuesday.”

“Boy or girl?” 

“Girl. My turn now.” He snickered. “Mikey.”

“I hate playing this game with you.” Mikey mumbled into his sleeve. 

“That’s because I’m Jerseys undefeated champion and you suck. Now pick.” He demanded, and the rest of the room watched quietly, with the occasional sound of someone opening another beer. 

“Truth.” Mikey sighed. He wasn’t drunk enough for this. “Can I have another beer?” 

“If you had to sleep with one celebrity of your own gender, who would it be?” Frank said as Bob handed Mikey a bottle, that he opened with great difficulty as he couldn’t really sit up for Frank.

“Would I have to top or bottom?” Mikey asked with a frown, and Pete, Bert and Jepha all exclaimed loud giggles, while Bob groaned and Patrick uncomfortably picked at the edge of his chair. 

“Like that matters.” Pete said. 

“You’re not even a top in your wildest dreams.” Frank added. “Bottom.” 

“We all know it’d be Morrissey anyways.” Bob mumbled from the other end of the circle they sat in. 

“How did you know that?” Mikey said, turning his head towards him. 

“You probably masturbate to the Smiths.” Frank grinned and poked Mikey in the chest. 

“I’ve done worse things to the Smiths.” Mikey said with a sly grin before throwing his arm back across his face. “Bert, truth or dare?” 

“Dare, since I’m not a loser.” He laughed. 

“Lick three of Jephas tattoos.” Mikey grinned. “That are not on his arms.” 

“I thought we agreed that they had to keep on their clothes.” Patrick said quietly, but was drowned out by Bert wrestling Jepha to the floor, pulling up his shirt and knocking an amp over in the process. 

“One.” Bert counted, while Jepha groaned in a mix of disgust and laughter. 

“This is messed up.” Bob commented and Patrick nodded while holding on to Petes sleeve, as the rest of the room watched the act on the floor with interest. 

“Two.” Bert yelled victoriously and started working on Jephas belt. “Now the fun starts.”

“I’m so out of here.” Bob continued and got up from the amp he was sitting on. 

From where he was lying, Mikey noticed Patrick mumbling something to Pete, before getting up and heading towards the door that Bob was on his way out of. 

“Three!” Bert exclaimed and crawled up on Patricks abandoned chair. “And two man down – only four to go. Pete, truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” Pete decided. “Your dares have got to be sick.” 

“You’re completely right, you wimp.” Bert nodded. “Have you ever had something edible licked off of you, and if yes, what and from where?” 

“Sadly, no.” Pete said with a shrug. 

“ _That_ is fucked up. What kind of rockstar are you?” Jepha said, sounding almost offended. 

“Shut up, also, truth or dare?” Pete cringed. 

“Dare. Because I’m not a wimp like other people in this room.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna _show_ you. Okay, you have to take off all your clothes in here, run outside and find another bottle of booze, and then you can get your clothes back.” Pete explained with a grin. 

“He does that on a daily basis.” Bert shrugged and Frank wheezed with laughter. 

Jepha quickly got up and started undressing, completely shameless in the middle of whatever was left of their circle, and no one was sober or bashful enough to actually pretend to look away, to which Jepha just reacted by swaggering through the lounge and out the door. 

“Bert you take my turn, I’ll be back in five.” He yelled before disappearing into the wilderness that was Warped Tour at night. 

“So, Mikey-“ he started, and Mikey made a resigned noise and drank the last of his beer. “You better pick dare this time, truth through two rounds should be made illegal. We’re not twelve year old girls, after all.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Great. I want you to find something at least remotely edible in the fridge and lick it off of Pete. When you’re twenty-whatever you _have_ to have tried that, period.” 

“Fuck you, Bert.” 

“Take a shot for nerves and killing boundaries first.” Frank said indulgently and handed Mikey a full bottle of gin, replacing the one he’d emptied earlier, and Mikey didn’t even bother with a glass by now. 

“I’m going to sue you all for sexual harassment.” Mikey said as he finally managed to push Frank off him and made his way to the fridge in the tiny kitchen that was attached to the lounge. 

“You can’t do that when you agreed to the terms of conditions.” Bert laughed. 

“This is America, I can do what I want.” He pointed out. “Okay, we’ve got apples, ketchup, butter, whipped-cream and, – shoe polish? Frank, why do we have shoe polish in our fridge?” 

“No idea.” Frank just shrugged. “Ask your brother, he has boots.” 

“It doesn’t _matter_.” Bert added impatiently. “Just pick something and come back here, take the god damn shoe polish if that floats your boat.” 

“Please don’t put shoe polish on me.” Pete said with a grimace. “Take the whipped cream.” 

Mikey reluctantly grabbed the can of whipped-cream from the fridge and went back to the couch where Frank had moved from to make space for Pete, who didn’t even look half as uncomfortable as Mikey felt. But then again, it was Pete, he’d do anything just to get a reaction out of people, and besides, there were plenty of people that Mikey would’ve felt weirder about licking stuff off, that he didn’t spend most of his days with anyway. The only part of it that actually bothered him was that Frank and Bert were going to watch. 

“Take off your shirt.” Mikey commanded, and Pete did what he was told as Bert snatched the can from Mikeys hands and stood beside them with a sly grin plastered across his face. Mikey was just glad he didn’t have a camera. 

“-and pants.” He continued when Pete had dumped his shirt on the floor. 

“No way, McCracken.” Pete said determinately, shaking his head. Frank laughed in the background, and Mikey flipped him off. 

“Come on, you would’ve done it anyways sooner or later. You’re practically married.” Frank giggled. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mikey said half-heartedly, and tried really hard not to blush. So, he hung out a lot with Pete, but it wasn’t like that. Frank was too drunk to know what he was talking about anyways, just because he’d caught them holding hands once or twice in Mikeys bunk. It’s not even like it was a big deal, people hold hands all the time, just because. 

“Ready?” Bert asked, and didn’t even let either of them reply before he sprayed a line of whipped cream all the way up across Petes chest. 

Mikey gulped, and was about to start when the door to the bus was slammed open and Jepha entered, still completely naked, holding a pineapple and a bottle of tequila, grinning widely and smelling heavily like smoke. 

“I’d really love to take further part in your bizarre sex games, but the guys from TBS and Avenged lit a huge-ass campfire behind the tents and now some girls are giving out lapdances and fruit. It’s going crazy. I think Adam Lazzara was on fire when I left to get you.” Jepha explained, waving the bottle of booze at them. 

“Oh shit, why didn’t you come sooner?” Bert exclaimed, quickly abandoning his current project with the whipped-cream can, pulling Frank with him in the haste towards Jepha and the door. “Frank, you’re coming with us. Being a one-man audience to these things just gets kind of weird.” 

It took a mere of five seconds before the three of them had disappeared and silence fell again, at least until Mikey looked up at Pete who was lying on the couch, resting on his elbows with whipped cream smeared across his chest, looking about as confused as Mikey probably did, and he broke down in giggles, with Pete following closely. 

“Of all weird things I have ever witnessed-“ Pete snickered. 

“Warped is kind of something to itself.” Mikey added, and Pete nodded violently. 

“Now what?” He asked, and Mikey shrugged. 

It took him a few moments of feeling his head buzz and his measurement of stupid decisions dissapearing, before he sent Pete a lopsided grin and leaned down, putting his mouth to that spot on Petes abdomen where the line of whipped-cream started. Pete suddenly went wide-eyed above him, looking so surprised that Mikey couldn’t help but let out a short laugh onto his skin, thoroughly working his way up past Petes navel, making sure each inch of skin was completely clean before he moved on. 

“Shit, Mikey.” Pete said, kind of breathlessly when Mikey had finished, pulling away from Petes neck and sort of hovering above him since he didn’t really know what to do with himself now. 

“It’d be unfair to leave you hanging like that.” He excused, grinning at him again. 

“Come here.” Pete demanded, firmly grabbing Mikeys jaw and pulling him in for a kiss, slowly licking into Mikeys mouth that probably tasted like a less appealing mix of cream and booze, but Pete didn’t seem to mind, and Mikey sure as hell didn’t either. 

He hadn’t really known until a few minutes ago that he actually kind of really wanted this, but now that it was happening, it seemed that it had totally been the plan all along, and they’d just been pushed forward by Bert McCracken and his insane ideas. 

So he let his hand roam Petes body, his arms, chest, hips and thighs, while Pete just sighed into his mouth and pushed his hands up underneath Mikeys shirt. 

“I have a bunk.” Mikey suggested when Pete pushed his hips up against Mikeys. 

“Yeah, you do.” Pete nodded, and with a bit of difficulty they got up from the couch, never really letting go of each other, and headed for Mikeys bunk, that was not only just a little softer than the couch, but also had curtains and some sort of privacy. 

With Pete lying down in his bunk, Mikey crawled onto him, sitting across his thighs and leaning down to kiss him again while working with the zipper of his jeans. Maybe it was just because he was drunk, or because Pete was hard, but his jeans seemed so tight that it took _forever_ to pull them down.

Pete bit his lip when Mikey wrapped his fingers tight around his dick and started moving his hand, and he made small noises each time Mikey flicked his wrist.   
When Pete came, he pulled Mikey down for another kiss, sticking his hands down Mikeys pants that wasn’t even off yet, and he barely had to move his hand before Mikey followed, sighing into Petes mouth and going limp on top of him. 

“Do you wanna sleep here?” Mikey asked after a while of silence, his face pushed into Petes neck, and Pete just nodded in response. 

“Good, cause I’m not moving.”


End file.
